


Home is the Sailor

by staranise



Category: Charlie's Angels (2019)
Genre: AU: Sabina is Charlie's granddaughter, Gen, Secret Identities, Spies, young white privileged fuckups
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 16:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21461320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staranise/pseuds/staranise
Summary: Sabina fell through a lot of cracks in her life. The biggest one was: She took twenty years to come fully to her grandmother's attention. Having that oversight corrected may change her life.
Relationships: Sabina Wilson & Charlie
Comments: 10
Kudos: 93





	Home is the Sailor

"Sabina," her grandmother says, when Helen has left them alone in the conservatory. "My goodness, look at you."

It's not warm, not exactly. Neither is it approving. It's a halfway measured attempt at both of them. _Congratulations, you appear not to be chewing at the tablecloth._ As Sabina slides into the chair with a halfhearted attempt at grace, she has a sudden, jarring flashback: Being sixteen, her parents, the sensation of being high, trees outside the sunroom of the Compassion Children and Adolescent Residential Facility. _Sweetie, we just want to understand. _(Spoiler: They hadn't.)

She half-grimaces, shrugs one shoulder. She's still very aware of the draft on her undercut, the swing of hair that isn't there anymore, the fading burn of her tattoo. She's never fit into her grandmother's house. "Change with the times, hey?" she says. There's a plate of cookies on the table; she reaches out and takes one, suspecting she's not supposed to.

"It looks good on you," her grandmother says, lifting the teapot. Sabina doesn't know how to take that. "And how is the new job?"

Sabina adds sugar to her cup, not really sure how to answer that. "It's good," she says automatically. That's what you say to someone whose contacts got you the job. Everything's fine, nothing to see. She doesn't think her grandmother actually knows what her job _is._ Thank God.

"Thank you for the update." It comes after a long enough pause that Sabina becomes aware that she's dropped the conversation, let a silence grow. It's embarrassing, of course. 

Because you _don't_ say, _"Hey, I don't think I'm qualified for that job you got me."_ You don't tell your parents that they should have let the school expel you. You don't tell your lawyer you think you should have ended up in juvie after all. _Is that what you want, Sabina? Do you want your whole life to be ruined?_

"I just think I'm better at some parts than others," she says, picking up her teacup. She wants to hold it like a beer, but she remembers how to hold it like a teacup, which ends her with some kind of weird amalgam. Whatever, she's owning it.

"What are you better at?"

"Um," and she swallows some tea. "People skills, I guess?" Okay, not _people_ skills. Half her training class hated her, the way scholarship students hate Harvard legacy admits. "Like, I'm really good at talking to clients. It's harder to talk with my um, coworkers." She makes a face. _I'm good at being other people. I'm not good at being myself._

"Any parts of it you hate?" Which is an unexpectedly perceptive question. She's never really been close to her grandmother before. They've never lived on the same coast. It's vaguely possible she is _not_ a complete bitch, but the jury's still out.

"Organization," Sabina says instantly, nose wrinkling. She's gotten the reviews herself, from Bosley and every instructor. "Time management."

"Those are important parts of any job," her grandmother says mildly, and drinks some tea.

Sabina kind of cringes under it, but at the same time, part of her is a little bit too pissed off to really go down the self-flagellation route. Bosley and the instructors _know_ her. Her grandmother just drops in from time to time. "I'm working on it, okay?"

"Good." Once again her grandmother, surprisingly, seems to mean it. 

"Thanks," Sabina blurts out. "For, you know. Getting me this job."

"You're the one who got it," Charlotte Wilson says. "I just... brought you to the attention of people who might seem able to use your talents."


End file.
